Some people are born to greatness while others have greatness thrust upon them. Neither of those describes me. I'm more of the hermit/crotchety/Pastafarian/mediocre type carbon life form. I keep living my life until I have wealth thrust upon me which will happen when I find that cached pirate’s booty that has been buried in the back forty. (Don’t ask me how, or why, pirates would bury their gold miles from the ocean and in the bush, they just did okay.)

Monday, May 28, 2012

The Most Important Information You Will Ever Get

As I was huffing and puffing, and trying to push my rather large ass up a hill this afternoon a funny thought just jumped into my brain and settled in for a long stay which is why I am writing about it now. And because I am sitting behind my computer screen, and not on my bike, I no longer sound like a porn star having an asthma attack. So the thought was about the most important thing in the world. Well not exactly the most important thing in your world, and for that matter probably not exactly the most important thing in my world either.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, my thought... What I realized as I was sweating the oldie up and down the hills is that when I sit down to write on this here blog thingie I don't spend any time whatsoever trying to organize my thoughts. In fact typically when I sit down I just sort of free write and allow whatever ideas happen to be lurking in my fingers to just get click-clacked from the keys to the screen. There is no rhyme or reason to any of the shit that I write here. In fact, what I realized while I was trying to pretend that my knee was not actually going to blow out, was that when I write on this blog, on my writing practice, or even just emailing long lost friends I have no sense priority to my ramblings. For that matter I barely have a sense of reality.

For example - today I could have been visited by aliens who have traveled many light years looking for worlds to lift up out of barbarism, to impart their wisdom on those less fortunate, and to show everyone how to make the best cup of coffee ever invented. They may have spent several hours downloading information directly into my brain about how to fix the global warming problem, how to cure cancer, how to ensure that everyone on the planet can have the best medical care, and have enough to eat every single day, and most importantly how to get rid of the Kardashians. I will be grateful, and thankful, and honoured, and awestruck. It could easily be the most important, exciting day of my life, and when I sit down to write on my blog what will I write about? Lets see, probably how many ticks we've picked off the dog to date, or whether or not the rose bush in the back has survived me hacking it up with my cutter thingie, or even how many loads of laundry I managed to get done. Its not that I want to do that, or even think its a great idea, its just that my brain has no particular control over my fingers.

If anyone actually reads this blog on a regular basis they may actually think that I am highlighting the events of the day or even the week here. That would be cracker jack box wrong. It isn't because I deliberately set out to mislead my reading public with half truths or cover ups. It isn't because I am trying to make my life seem so much more sophisticated and intellectual then it actually is. (Yeah that's right, Kitpu Estates, is the heart of the Intelligentsia of North America.) What it is, is the sign of a mind which has gone from OCD organized to one which occasionally puts her panties on over her pants.

I thought I should let everyone know that having gotten to this realization through an epiphany, or Eureka moment isn't going to change anything. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to continue writing random shit about random mundane or fantasy crap whenever I want to. So when I invent that magnificent, jaw dropping, awe inspiring, news worthy porpoise communicator and am being interviewed by all the big news channels of the world I will probably write about how I don't like the smell of the soap they have in hotel bathrooms. Blame it on the digits.

6 comments:

Well then. Now we see a definite genetic correlation to our internet time wasting. Those poor old super-mega-giant dinosaurs may (or may not) have had extra special nerve bundles to make their ridiculously distant appendages work properly but you and I have at least one in each hand (although truth be told I'm inclined to suspect at least ten). 'Topics' and focus are for chumps...and people who haven't got extra tiny brains in their fingers.

At least you consistently put information into your computer. I keep thinking I should write in my blog but find myself running after kids, selling houses, aquiring moving crap and attending a million and a half events my friends keep dragging me to. One day perhaps I'll have the time but it's not today!

About Me

Iron Bess isn’t my real name, it is the name I use when I am working undercover for the CIA, M5, and the FSM. Every post in this blog is coded to send my secrets across the ether safely to Cthulu’s minions who will use the information to infiltrate all the governments of the world. You may have seen some of my influences already. Casual Fridays. Inspirational posters on the walls. Four hour budget meetings right after lunch. Employee evaluations. And the pièce de résistance, TV commercials. Diabolical.
In the meantime I hang out at Kitpu Estates pretending to be a hermit while trying to hide my ankle monitor as I await sentencing for that stabby little incident with the waiter who was trying to take my plate before I was done all of my cake. It was a trifling little matter, after all he still has his other hand.